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Reviews
Jharna Joshi and Shailesh Gongal
The restoration of Kathmandu's Hanuman Dhoka Durbar in 1970 with UNESCO's help was the first major foreign-assisted architectural conservation project in Nepal that went beyond the research and documentation phase. Two years later the Germans restored the Pujari Math in Bhaktapur. These projects heralded the era of international assistance in the conservation of Nepali monuments.
In 1974, the Germans started the Bhaktapur Development Project, an endeavour that went on until 1986. In 1979, seven sites within the Kathmandu Valley were selected for inclusion in the World Heritage Site List. In collaboration with the Department of Archaeology (DOA) which was itself established in 1952, many foreign consultants are today involved in different heritage conservation projects in Nepal. The three-decade long history of foreign assistance and involvement in this field has been so pervasive that heritage conservation is today perceived as something that can only be pursued with foreign monetary and technical aid.
Prior to the restoration of Hanuman Dhoka Durbar, conservation as a 'project' was non-existent in Nepal. Rather, the work of conservation was done in the form of rituals - periodic or seasonal - by responsible guthis. They also carried out minor repairs (such as replacing the jhingati tile roofs with brass roofs) during festivals or pujas. These guthis generated the necessary revenue for such repair and maintenance activities from the lands endowed to them.
The 1934 earthquake devastated most of Kathmandu Valley's monuments such as the Pachpanna Jhyaale Durbar (55-window palace), Taleju, Degutalle, Dharahara, etc. The restoration work that followed, perhaps the greatest one in Nepal's history, was achieved without any foreign assistance as far as we know. This was done using local skills and resources mobilized by the individual guthis and the Rana government of Juddha Shumsher.
The Documentation Relay
In post-Rana Nepal, with the loss in the overall efficacy of guthis, the inability of the Nepali economy to find alternate financial sources for the upkeep of the monuments, and the failure of governmental institutions to implement building by-laws, the business of conservation gradually shifted to international development agencies. Today, agencies such as UNESCO, UNDP, ICROM, ICOMOS and GTZ have taken the form of global guthis; their conservation works spread all over the world.
When international agencies first got involved in conservation work in Nepal, they funded various documentation and research projects, and helped prepare the plans of the cities and locational maps of different monuments. Some of these reports include: Recommendation on Archaeological and Architectural Monuments in Nepal (1963-64, Paor, UNESCO), Preservation of the Cultural Heritage of Nepal (1964, C Jest, UNESCO), Development of Cultural Tourism (J. C. Pallaco), Recommendation on the Preservation of Historic Properties and Development of Cultural Tourism (1968, E. A. Connelly, UNESCO), Preservation of Monuments in Nepal (1970, N. R. Banerjee, Indian Co-Operation Mission), etc. These exercises definitely helped in the delineation of the Monument Zones for the World Heritage Sites. But except for the first few original works in this genre, the subsequent reports and their recommendations have been somewhat redundant. Since research and documentation involve the use of expensive hi-tech instruments by specialists, such redundancy has come at a high price. The on-going conservation work of Patan Durbar Square is an example of this.
The documentation of Patan Durbar Square was completed as early as 1981 by a Japanese team from the Nippon Institute of Technology. Latest technologies available at that time, such as stereo camera meter, were used for measurements and recording. But in 1993, UNESCO/Japan Trust Fund supported yet another study of the same at the cost of $375,000. This study was completed in two phases (the responsibility for each was given to two different teams) by 1996 using electronic theodolites to produce digital maps and drawings. A major part of the first phase of this study was done manually. Ultra-detailed documentation, especially of Sundari Chowk, was made. This is an excellent work of fine art but it lacks construction details. From the point of view of actual conservation work, it was also unnecessary given the existence of the 1981 Japanese Report.
Significant restoration of the Sundari Chowk, estimated at $265,800 by the DOA and UNESCO, could have been achieved with the money spent for the latter study. Another example of an expensive project was the restoration of Keshab Narayan Chowk in the same Durbar Square which took fourteen years (with many interruptions and controversies in between) and $1,000,000 to complete. This restoration is exemplary from an architectural view point even though it may be unconventional from the perspective of 'pure' conservation because steel and cognate materials have been used.
The irony is that when these great monuments were built, the simplest of hand-made tools were used with great skill by local craftsmen. We are not even sure whether they used any scaled drawings to produce these masterpieces of architecture. And the entire cost of building was, of course, borne by the then Malla City states.
Affordable Conservation
Conservation work need not be prohibitively expensive. The restoration of Bhairab Mandir in Bhaktapur by that town's Municipality Office can offer us an example of affordable conservation. This restoration was completed at the cost of Rs.31 lakhs as against DOA's estimated cost of Rs.75 lakhs. The money came from the Municipality's own coffer and cost reduction was achieved, in the main, by the non-delegation of the project to a third party. Under direct supervision of the Municipality, local expertise was used for the restoration work. Without losing sight of the fact that the Bhaktapur Development Project initiated by the Germans had laid the foundation for conservation work in Bhaktapur, it has now become capable in preserving its heritage.
The case of the Bhairab Mandir should prove that conservation need not be expensive and that the necessary funds and expertise can be located within the country. Hence, after three decades of working with international agencies, it is time to assess where we stand in the field of conservation of our heritage. We need to assess what research has been done and what affordable non-redundant research needs to be done for future conservation work. We need to also assess the actual restoration work completed thus far and come up with ways to increase Nepali participation, both financially and technically, in future conservation works. We need to start an era of Nepali leadership in heritage conservation.
(Joshi is an architect. Gongal, a civil engineer, is an organizer of Martin Chautari)
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Kumar Pandey
A workshop entitled Water Rights, Conflict and Policy was organized in Kathmandu in January 1996 by International Irrigation Management Institute (IIMI, Sri Lanka), Legal Research and Development Forum (FREEDEAL, Kathmandu), Department of Agrarian Law of Wageningen Agricultural University, Netherlands, and the Sanders Institute of Erasmus University, Rotterdam, Netherlands. Its proceedings have now been published by IIMI.
Water Rights, Conflict and Policy contains thirteen papers on water related issues. The discussions are diverse and deal with the existing legal system for irrigation, the customary practices in the villages regarding water sharing, water rights, family managed irrigation systems, inter-sectoral uses of water, state intervention, conflicts in the usage of water, and policies required for conflict resolution. Most of the papers are based on studies carried out in Nepal. The conference, and subsequently the proceedings deal mainly with water rights for irrigation, although issues of domestic usage, industrial usage, etc. are also entertained.
Usage of water, its distribution, rights of traditional users verses those of new users, the upstream and downstream rights all should be subjects of water rights legislation. Water Resources Act (WRA) of 1992, which broadly nationalizes the water resources of Nepal, does not clearly address water rights issues. The paper by Durga K.C. and Rajendra Pradhan describes real-life situations which put the WRA to test as far as water rights go. This paper specifically looks at "priority use rights, ownership to both land and water, access rights, rights to turn (for irrigation) in rotation, rights to convert pakho (upland) to khet (low land), full rights to use water, rights during monsoon or winter only, rights for way (for a canal), rights for compensation (for a physical structure), rights and obligations to contribute labor..."
Since conflict in water usage is often a very local problem requiring immediate and on-the-spot resolution, the court system or the nationally ordained Acts may not be the appropriate forum for resolution of such conflicts. In "Analysis of Supreme Court Cases and Decisions Related to Water Rights in Nepal" Bishal Khanal and Santosh K.C. show how the Supreme Court has dealt with very few water related litigation until now because the local bodies have been settling disputes on their own. For its part, the WRA provides leeway for settling water usage related disputes in the traditional ways. But given the nature of water related problems, and the promulgation of the WRA without sufficient study of the existing management systems, the Supreme Court may be drawn into resolving local conflicts as well.
State intervention for the welfare of the people is generally thought to be important and essential. This is especially true in the case of water where its uses can vary from traditional and relatively cheap irrigation canals, to large networks of drinking water supply for urban population, to very capital-intensive hydropower industries. In "Inter-sectoral Water Allocation: A Case Study in Upper Bagmati Basin" Ajaya Dixit discusses the changes in the life-style of the traditional users, and argues that they can be partially attributed to the loss of their original rights to water after a drinking-water scheme and a hydro-power plant were established.
Inter-sectoral approach also requires coordination amongst the government agencies to carry out nationally defined goals. In the case of water usage a number of governmental and political bodies such as the Department of Irrigation, the Agricultural Development Bank-Nepal, the Village Development Committees, the District Development Committees, the Ministry of Agriculture, the Ministry of Water Resources and all the legal and quasi-legal establishments are involved in one way or another. When these agencies cannot get their act together, inter-sectoral programs cannot be pursued with success. The article on Bagmati successfully shows the complex nature of water management problems and how "deficiencies result from institutional weaknesses and a lack of clarity about...water use and rights."
Other chapters in the book do well in studying how communities solve their local problems, how they manage their requirements, and how they solicit and find external help to meet their needs. They provide significant insights into current problems in the field of water rights.
This book can be fairly esoteric for the non-specialist readers. But for those involved in the field of water resources, especially irrigation, it should be an essential reading material. The book will also be useful to those development organizations whose obsessions include subjects such as public participation, community development, and legal support. Given its importance, IIMI needs to make an extra effort to make the book widely available.
(Pandey, a hydropower engineer, is an organizer of Martin Chautari)
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Manesh Shrestha
Where does the anthropologist stand in the traditional (as represented by caste and religion) -modern (as represented by law and bureaucracy) dichotomy of India? Where does the individual stand when, on the one hand, the state and, on the other, the community demand her loyalty? Why does a person have to undergo suffering just because she is a woman from a particular community? These are some questions that the eminent Indian sociologist Veena Das has addressed in Critical Events, a book full of brilliant analyses, though at times inaccessible to the reader uninitiated in social scientific discourse.
Das discusses the critical events - the violence on women during the partition of India, the Shah Bano case of 1985, the Roop Kanwar sati in 1987, the Sikh militant discourse of the 1980s and the 1984 Bhopal gas tragedy - to "arrive at the truth of the victim, a truth which is made up...of the daily suffering, the daily humiliation and the everyday experience of being violated." Das begins by talking about the dilemma facing the Indian anthropologist today. If she deals with caste/religion she will be accused of looking at it either from the "western" point of view which would be interpretation through an alien culture or from the "Indian/Hindu/Islamic" point of view which is often labelled backward looking. The way out for the social scientist, Das maintains, is the "destruction of certainty" by continuing to voice her concerns even when analytical consensus is unlikely.
When India and Pakistan were created in 1947 Hindu, Muslim and Sikh women were subjected to sexual violence. Women were separated from their families by abduction. Subsequently agreement was reached between the two governments to locate these abducted women and return them to their original 'families' so that the 'honour and purity' of these families and by extension those of the states were left intact. The state thus deprived the women from making their own choices. Many women refused to go back (and their new families supported them) but the state callously said that its honour was at stake. Even if an attachment had developed between the abductor and the abducted and such marriages had received community support, the state did not recognise such marriages and the offspring was labelled as a "blot" on Hindu society. In short, the state laid down the norms to govern women within the family.
Article 27 of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights states: "In those states in which ethnic, religious and linguistic minorities exist, persons belonging to such minorities shall not be denied the right, in community with other members of their groups to enjoy their own culture, to profess and practise their own religion, or to use their own language." This implies that the community is a threat to the power of the state and vice versa. Das illustrates the point with the help of the Shah Bano case in which the Supreme Court ruled that her ex-husband provide for her maintenance; and the Roop Kanwar sati after which the state, through legislation, decreed "glorification" of sati a criminal offence.
In the former case the conflict was apparent since the Muslim personal law states that the husband is free of any obligation to a divorced wife. In the latter the community alleged that the state was interfering with its freedom to practise religion as glorification of satis, it claimed, is part of its religion. Das views these two interferences as the state's attempt to control the community's history and to submerge it within that of the state. This conflict can be resolved, says the author, only if both the state and the community recognize the paradox facing the individual. But then what? Das does not say and the answers are not simple.
In the Sikh militant discourse, Das argues, the feminine Other (meaning the Hindu majority) must be rejected by the masculine Self of the Sikh if the community's historically 'valiant' narrative is not to be 'forgotten'. Sikh militancy was such a potent force in the 80s because Bhindranwale and others were able to transform personal injustice into misfortunes of the community. The violence carried out by the Sikh community was thus justified in this manner.
The last of the critical events is the Bhopal gas tragedy in which about 2500 people were killed and 300,000 were affected. Das concludes that the judicial and medical discourses insisted, though indirectly, that the victims accept the responsibility for their own suffering. Union Carbide and sadly the Indian government, which had taken over as the plaintiff on behalf of the victims with the Bhopal Act, proved that much of the suffering was exaggerated. It was even contended that since the victims were suffering from malnutrition and various diseases it could not be ascertained that the suffering was caused solely by the gas. The Supreme Court finally ruled that the government and Carbide settle for 470 million dollars, a pittance considering the damages caused. Had the government not represented the victims, Das says, the Court could have ruled that Carbide must pay a much higher sum. The victims were never given a chance to prove the suffering caused to them.
In the final chapter, Das analyses pain from an anthropological perspective borrowing from Durkheim, Nietzsche and Wittgenstein, among others. Pain, she argues, must be collectively experienced to create a moral society.
(Shrestha is an MA student in sociology/anthropology at TU)
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Swarnim Wagle
Notes from a Small Island is travel writing at its best. Bryson, an American who has lived in Britain for seventeen years decides to move his family back to his native land but before he does this, he sets off on a journey around the small island of Britain crisscrossing its many towns, cities and villages. The book is an account of this travel.
Travel writing as a genre has always been a difficult one to fathom. One could easily do with a guide-book for facts and if one fancies being dazzled by prose one might as well run through a classic fiction. But good travel writing has always been about a delicate balance between the two and works that stand out do really have something distinctly theirs. Notes, however, vividly reminded me of Paul Theroux - another establishment figure of the genre, widely quoted by Bryson himself. Theroux, too, lived in Britain for exactly seventeen years, has done a similar travel around Britain's coastline and ended up writing a book (The Kingdom by the Sea) as funny as Bryson's. Similarity does not end here. Both men are Americans and the reason this is so interesting is that their foreign origin probably explains the phenomenal success of their works (Notes has been in The Times Best Sellers List for the past nine months). Having entered Britain "positively radiant with ignorance", Bryson, like all foreigners would have had a large appetite for knowledge about the rain-soaked island. So when national traits that the natives tend to take for granted are cleverly remarked upon, it delights them.
This book is full of humour but what makes it additionally funny is Bryson's knack for sharp observation ("make a face like someone who's taken a cricket ball in the scrotum but doesn't want to appear wimpy because his girlfriend is watching"). Britain in itself is, of course, a peculiar place and a witty observer won't find it terribly hard to poke fun at the country's weird traditions and attitudes. It is the latter that Bryson almost exhausts describing. The immense diversity of regional accents and typically British idiosyncrasies are most wonderfully captured - be it boring Welshmen recommending boring mining tours or London cabbies not bearing to admit not knowing the location of something they feel they ought to know, like a hotel, for example.
The British are understandably proud of their sense of humour. As I was once told - not as an exaggeration - that in other countries if people disagreed with you they might call you names or say you are a fool, but in Britain it is always "You don't have a sense of humour". Bryson has definitely picked this up and mastered the art of self deprecation that the natives so prize. The British are very good at laughing at themselves and Bryson seems quite comfortable joining in. At one stage, he writes "I looked uncannily like a large blue condom".
One thing I did realise as I read on however was that the book's full appeal may not be availed of by general readers detached from the British milieu. It would be difficult, for example, to appreciate a joke about, say, Morecambe and Wise if you have little idea who they are or what they are. But I will not say that is a pity because Bryson's strength lies in his ability to bring out the quintessence of an intelligent prose full of wit. This is one of the funniest books I have ever read and would happily recommend it.
(Wagle is a modest anglophile)
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Pratyoush Onta
Aanandamaya Aakaash is writer Madanmani Dixit's autobiography of his childhood years between his birth on 17 February 1923 and the time he entered Queens College in Banaras in mid-1940. At the time of his birth, his father, Laxmanmani Acharya Dixit (1955-2025 v.s.) as well as his grandfather, Mahila Pundit Kashinath Acharya Dixit (1920-1994 v.s.) served in the court of the powerful Rana premier Chandra Shumsher (r. 1901-29). Mainly due to Chandra's patronage, Kashinath and his seven sons and their families lived a life of relative comfort in Kathmandu.
Madanmani begins by describing the moment of his birth as he had heard it from his mother Bishnukumari Devi (d. 2014 v.s.). His granduncle, Sadashiva had then predicted that the like of Madanmani had not been born in the larger Mani family. After Chandra's death in 1929, Bhim Shumsher punished all of Chandra's favorite courtiers and the fortunes of Kashinath's family took a nose dive. Laxmanmani was imprisoned for a good part of Bhim's 33-month reign and Madanmani provides glimpses of the poverty that ruled his family then. Most of Laxmanmani's property had to be sold off to pay back the money he had borrowed to pay the Rs. 70,000 plus fines charged against him by Bhim. In mid-1934 the family left for Banaras and the next two decades of Madanmani's life were spent outside of Kathmandu.
For aficionados of history, the details this book provides on life-cycle events, life in a huge joint family, the division of property, and gender & intergenerational disputes carried out across long-distances through post-cards will prove to be fascinating. We learn a few things about what it meant for electricity to arrive in the author's new house, his childhood desires for toys, or the various efforts carried out to educate him. The narrative and the few photographs provide testimonies of the desires and anxieties of members of a Hindu proto middle-class family dependent on the patronage of the Ranas during the early years of this century. This book also enhances our understanding of how Hindu patriarchy and strictures of caste purity combined with the forces of an increasingly more consumption-oriented modernity to produce the kind of complex childhood of Madanmani and his cohort.
It is also a document of how the ravages of nature (the earthquake of 1990 v.s.), and diseases that routinely killed children and adults affected even relatively better-off families of Kathmandu and Banaras. A historian interested in the social history of disease and early death will find much evidence here (much in the manner of Hari Shrestha's memoir, Atitko Smriti). Analysts interested in 'subaltern' historical worlds will find Madanmani's descriptions of people who fulfilled various domestic service roles (including some ex-slaves) to be helpful. In the absence of wholesome testimonies that might enable historians to reconstruct the worlds of such subalterns, they have to rely on fragmentary evidence derived from such elite writings.
Those readers who remember Madanmani's earlier memoir, Hamra Ti Dinharu (also republished as part two of the present book), will regret that the flow of that writing is missing in this book. Moreover this text should have been rigorously edited for clarity and erasure of contradictory details. One expects as much from a writer of Madanmani's stature.
(Onta is an editor of Studies in Nepali History and Society and convenor of Martin Chautari)
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